A/N: Yes, this is a whole lot of cliché and a whole lot of unoriginal fluff. I don't care; this was quite the fickle plot bunny, so I'm pretty happy I managed to finish it one way or another. And actually, it's occurred to me that I write Dean/Seamus an awful lot like I write Remus/Sirius. Hmm. Okay, ramble over. Go read.
Disclaimer: Duh.
Warning: SLASH. Duh.
Seamus Finnegan knew, absolutely, positively, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that Dean Thomas was straight. Straight as a flagpole, straight as the horizon over the ocean, straight as uncooked spaghetti. Dean Thomas was the kind of nice, clean-cut boy that went in for serious long-term relationships with nice, clean-cut girls who could be taken home to meet his parents. He wore nice, slightly mismatched clothes that were never too tight or too carefully folded or too brightly colored. He listened to classic rock music, and he read sports magazines and books about historical wars.
Dean Thomas was as straight as Seamus Finnegan was gay. Or so Seamus thought.
Harry Potter, Gryffindor's other Most Notorious Homosexual since the Marauders' days at Hogwarts, begged to differ. "You're being stereotypical, Seamus," he admonished. "And even though you happen to be flaming like a bonfire, you of all people should know better than to judge him like that. Is there anything you know for sure?"
"Yeah, all his loads of perfect girlfriends," Seamus replied sulkily.
Harry snorted.
"Come on, he's always getting letters – Justine, Roberta, Danielle… He moons over them like bloody crazy."
Harry snorted again. It really was quite unattractive. "Seamus, really, what does that prove? Have you never wondered why he doesn't date girls with names like Megan or Rebecca or Mary?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Think, mate. Are there any male equivalents to those names?"
"Er…" Seamus considered. "I guess not."
"Exactly." Harry looked pleased that Seamus was finally catching on. "Justine. Roberta. Danielle. Justin. Robert. Daniel."
"But – how do you know, anyway?" Seamus asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Trust me. I've tried every trick in the book. It never occurred to you that there are no girls named Teresa in Ravenclaw?"
Seamus recalled a period of several months back in fifth year when Harry often disappeared to meet a girl who, when pestered, he revealed was a Ravenclaw named Teresa. "Teresa… Teresa… Terry? That was actually Terry Boot?"
"Brilliant powers of deduction there, mate," replied Harry with a cheeky grin. "So trust me when I tell you that there is no way Dean is writing letters to anyone named Danielle."
"Hmm," Seamus responded. "So how would I get him to admit it then, eh?"
Seamus began with the blunt route. "Hey Dean, how's Daniel?"
Dean blinked and looked up from his book on some Muggle war or another. "Daniel? Who's Daniel?" His face was totally blank – no signs of panic, just slightly guarded curiosity.
"Er…" Seamus never had been very good at thinking on his feet. Thrown off, he beat a hasty retreat to the common room.
Net he toned it down a bit with general gay-themed comments. "My, Malfoy does look hot today." He let out a low appreciative whistle, earning himself some combination of a glare and a sexy smirk that only the blond could pull off.
"Really, Seamus!" Dean said mildly. "You know as well as I do that Malfoy is decidedly off the market."
"Seamus grinned. "He and Harry are pretty loud sometimes, aren't they?"
Dean smacked him on the side of the head. Gently.
When vagueness was unsuccessful, Seamus attempted jealousy (Dean's, that is). He carefully avoided all physical contact with Dean, but made sure to touch as many other boys as possible when in his presence. No one was safe in this new line of attack – Colin Creevey, Ernie MacMillan, Professor Snape (Seamus had honestly expected detention for the rest of his days at Hogwarts when he'd let his hand brush Snape's while he and Dean partnered during Potions; strangely, though, the Professor only gave him a cold, appraising eye before turning away) – but Seamus' favorite targets were his other dorm-mates. Neville – tried to smile and act cool when Seamus hugged him enthusiastically in crowded corridors, but fidgeted the whole time. Ron – turned various amusing colors from green to red to purple if Seamus so much as sat close enough to brush their shoulders together. Harry – perhaps the most fun, as he was more than happy to play along with anything, but Seamus had to be very careful and make sure that Malfoy was nowhere in the vicinity, as he did not particularly fancy being jinxed inside-out.
Dean generally observed these antics with a calm, bemused smile. Seamus was beginning to despair of ever getting a rise out of him, and thus confirming his sexuality once and for all, until Dean's disinterested façade finally cracked ever so slightly.
The five roommates were seated together in the corner of the common room one night, Harry and Seamus indulging in a bit of purely innocent cuddling while the other three tackled homework. Seamus admittedly pushed his luck by leaning in to brush a light kiss across Harry's lips, but it was worth it when out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Dean's gaze locked on them. Before Seamus could disentangle himself, Dean had scooped up his books, quickly and quietly, and headed off to the library.
From that point on., Seamus reversed his tactics and only touched Dean. He made excuses to smooth the wrinkles out of his robes, to reach for objects at the same time so their hands met, to brush up against him constantly. Dean took it all in stride, neither reciprocating nor recoiling. But more and more frequently Seamus was noting an odd gleam in Dean's eye when they were together.
Seamus' breakthrough finally came in the form of a literal electric shock. It was winter; there was wool and fleece everywhere, and everything seemed to crackle with built-up electricity. Seamus found Dean reading on his bed, alone in their room. With the intent of challenging him to a snowball fight, Seamus reached out and tapped Dean's shoulder. They both felt it, the prick of the electric jolt rushing through them, and Seamus froze, forgetting what he'd come to say. If that wasn't a sign, what was?
Seeing that Dean seemed disinclined to speak, Seamus threw caution to the wind. Subtlety was getting him nowhere. In a flash he'd pinned Dean's hands to the bed beneath his own, knocking the book out of the way, and found himself kneeling over the sitting boy. After that he couldn't be quite sure who initiated what, only that Dean's mouth was pressed against his own, and their arms were forcing their bodies closer and closer and – and all of a sudden Harry was standing in the doorway chuckling and watching them.
Dean waved. Seamus glared. Harry took a hint and flashed a thumbs-up as he closed the door behind him.
"Well, about time," Dean said smugly.
"I – about – what?" Seamus sputtered.
Dean shrugged. "I wanted you to figure things out on your own. But it certainly took you long enough to come around. I suppose you always have been a bit slow on the uptake."
"You – slow – I resent that!" But somehow the kiss with which he was rewarded eased Seamus' resentment. "What about Danielle?"
"Daniel," Dean said pointedly, "and I broke up six months ago."
"I wasted six whole months thinking you were straight when I could've been snogging you senseless?" Seamus marveled.
"Yup," Dean affirmed. "So just shut up now, okay?"
End